


Kinbaku (Reprise)

by Beguile



Category: Daredevil (TV)
Genre: Anal Sex, BDSM, Blow Jobs, Cock & Ball Torture, Cunnilingus, Edging, F/M, Gags, Jealousy, M/M, Multi, Oral Sex, Orgasm Denial, PWP, Power Dynamics, Rope Bondage, Rough Sex, Sex, Smut, Strap-Ons, Suspension Bondage, female dom, sensory play
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-04
Updated: 2020-05-04
Packaged: 2021-03-02 23:40:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,261
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24005245
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Beguile/pseuds/Beguile
Summary: Frank agrees to doing this Elektra’s way.PWP. One-shot.
Relationships: Frank Castle/Matt Murdock, Frank Castle/Matt Murdock/Elektra Natchios
Comments: 10
Kudos: 62





	Kinbaku (Reprise)

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: the characters and concepts in this story are the property of Marvel and their related affiliates. This is an amateur writing effort meant for entertainment purposes only.
> 
> This is prompt fill from Tumblr asking for R-rated Fratt or smutty Matt/Elektra/Frank to help with these Trying Times. I went with Matt/Elektra/Frank. There’s a line in another fic I wrote about the Unholy Trinity where Elektra thinks Frank would like to be tied up by her, and I rolled with that idea. What unfolded during the writing process was 1) 4000 words more than I anticipated and 2) the R-rated-est, smuttiest fic I have ever conceived or written. Ever. 
> 
> Kinbaku is Japanese rope bondage, and it’s also the name of the episode in season 2 that explores Elektra and Matt’s relationship. 
> 
> Special thanks to dichotomystudios for beta-ing and making sure everything – and everyone – was the right length. 
> 
> Readers, dear Readers, as Academy Award nominated rapper/songwriter Marshall “Eminem” Mathers once said, “I’m going to hell. Who’s coming with me?”

* * *

Frank catches her wrist before Elektra can thrust the gag in his mouth. “You said we could do this my way,” she reminds him.

Glaring is Frank’s only response. Words don’t cut it: they only make him a liar. He lets his actions speak. Keep his damn head up, shoulders back, ready to do battle even as she puts the cock gag back to his mouth and pushes it inside.

Trust her to have found just the right size. The bulb knocks against Frank’s gag reflex, and the girth comes shy of unhinging his jaw. Elektra gets the belt buckled against his neck, locking him in, and the choking keeps him from doing something stupid like knocking that look of smug passivity off her face. He wanted this, after all. Wouldn’t be here if he didn’t. He wants to see what she’s got, and she’s showing him, and so far, it’s fucking amateur hour. A cock gag? Really? Gonna have to do better than that, she wants to make this worth Frank’s while.

Elektra seems to agree. She doesn’t waste time admiring him in the gag. She grabs a black bag from off the bed and covers his head.

He’s been here before, inside and out of the dark. Been the guy with the gun to the guy in the black bag’s head, been the guy in the black bag with a gun to his head. That he’s choosing to let her do it rankles him, makes it hard to keep his feelings down. To kneel there under her while she moves around him in silence, having her way.

A rope comes to dangle over his spine. The hairs on the back of Frank’s neck, along his arms, they stand at attention. He sucks in a breath, chokes. How easily he forgets the cock in his mouth. He thinks Elektra might be laughing, but it’s hard to tell once he starts breathing through his nose. He focuses on the rush, on forcing it down, and it gets harder and harder. Frank gets harder and harder. The shit that gets done with a guy in a black bag should be quick and dirty, but Elektra is slow and soft. Her ropes are silk. Her touch is deliberate, she’s too practiced not to be, but she makes it feel almost unintentional as she manoeuvres him. She slides the rope around his biceps, winding and binding and wrapping, her movement so tender that Frank doesn’t have any resistance by the time she pulls.

His shoulders snap back. That they’re still in their sockets doesn’t feel like a mercy; feels like a punishment for his limitations, his inability to go her way. Frank fights, can’t not, shifts on the spot without leaving his damn knees. Elektra’s breath rustles over his collarbone, a shock since he can’t get a read on her. The screaming in his shoulders is too loud and she’s so quiet. He thinks she’s still working, but everything below the elbows is a mystery, at least until that second pull.

Frank groans. Elektra lets out a breath that sounds like a laugh. She pulls one more time, a tinkle of metal going almost unheard for all of Frank’s raspy breathing under the cover of the bag. “Oh, I like you this way,” she says. He’s aware of her standing, her voice pouring over him in one final _fuck you_ before she pulls the trigger. “I should have tied you up a long time ago, Frank.” 

He expects her to hit him. Kick him. Instead, he gets her hands on his shoulders. She squeezes once, holds, long enough for the muscles to settle into position, and then she vanishes.

The sounds that follow give Frank nothing. Wood creaking and rope sliding, Elektra’s feet roving across the floor. He thinks he hears her talking at some point, but the words are a whisper, little more than breath. Drool cuts a hot line down his chin; Frank tilts his head back and swallows, shaking when the cock punches at his gag reflex. A whole slew of nerves come to life, all through his neck and back, down through his thighs. He’s been hard for a while, but the whole black bag, not being able to breathe, tied up, it’s working. There’s something about her that makes it good. Makes it a challenge. She’s not the thing that kills him. Withstanding all this shit, outlasting her, that’s what’s getting him.

Frank’s working so hard at keeping himself under control, he’s shocked when the bag’s ripped off his head. Candlelight, dim as it might be, stabs him in the eyes. He blinks frantically, twisting away till his vision adjusts. Red’s bedroom comes into view, cathedral ceilings opening into a blackness so pitch despite or perhaps because of the candlelight. Straight ahead, Elektra stands, barely clothed in a silken robe, the same shade in the candlelight as Red’s devil suit, as the blood they lick off each other’s skin in the dark.

And speak of the Devil, there he is beside her, hanging from the ceiling in the most elaborate display of rope and flesh. He’s on his side, head dangling towards Elektra, mouth stretched open by a circle gag. His arms are crossed behind his back, ropes cutting into his biceps and pecs. Struggle one way, he flinches; struggle the other, his eyes roll up into his skull for a brief second before he flinches again. Ropes wind at the base of Red’s dick, around his balls. Pull a little in the wrong direction (or the right one), and he doesn’t get off tonight. He stays hard as long as she wants him to, gets off when she wants him to, and trying to fight just puts him more firmly in her grasp.

Those legs of his are bent, one knee perpendicular with the floor while his other is slung to the side, calf twisted as far as it will go by a rope around his ankle stretching up his back. Both feet are pointed like a dancer, and the arches are, inexplicably, where Frank’s eyes linger, lost in the curvature of Red’s form.

There’s more to it than that. Frank struggles to take it all in as Red spins slowly before him. Elektra’s handiwork isn’t static: it’s symbiotic. This thing that lives and breathes and feeds off Red. Every movement, no matter how small, sets off a chain reaction: a pull here, pressure there. Some bad, some ugly, all good. All perfect. And Red is all the more perfect because of it.

Frank’s thighs strain. He didn’t even notice he was pulling. There’s a strength building up in his muscles that needs some place to go and can’t. He tries to rise and his wrists pull, the ropes yanking his shoulders tighter. He’s tied, he realizes, to a metal ring on the floor that either Elektra or Red or both of them installed. A knot just for him. He doesn’t get to stand, not until she lets him. He can only watch.

Elektra beams as if she can hear the thought. She lets the robe fall off her shoulders, pooling around her ankles. The only thing she’s wearing is a strap-on. She runs her hand along the shaft to warm herself up. Her eyes are locked on Frank’s and he tries not to let them go, but there’s too much to watch. The twitches of Red’s muscles call to him, the way Red’s skin bulges around the rope, the way he spins so slowly, his head returning to Elektra’s side whereupon her hand slides through his hair. Sweat glints on Red’s brow from the candlelight. His eyes are wide and glassy and desperate for bearings, and Frank is going to tear his own arms off trying to get free and it’s going to be fucking worth it to get Elektra the hell out, to have Red, all of Red, just like this, just the two of them.

Elektra knows that too. Knows Frank can’t do shit. Knows he’s going to collapse again, which he does, and that’s her cue to shove the strap-on into Red’s open mouth, her eyes on Frank the entire time. 

She works Red’s head, her fist locked in his hair, thrusting him forward and dragging him back. A sound builds in the back of his throat that goes straight to Frank’s dick. An objection at first, or so it sounds until Red’s eyes close, that growl of his becoming a moan. He rides the push and pull of Elektra’s hand into bliss.

Frank tries to stand up again, shoulders and dick be damned. Fuck the rope and the chain, fuck Red’s floor, fuck Red. _Fuck Red_. The little shit gets his eyes open a crack as Elektra drags him off her plastic cock, and hell if the corners of his lips aren’t curving around the circle gag. Hell if he isn’t enjoying Frank’s restraint as much if not more than Elektra. And that gets Frank hotter and harder and more likely to break something if he could get his feet under him. His jaw clenches, his tongue thrusts up; that cock gag damn near chokes him, and he starts to work at it, huffing and puffing against the silicone struggling to cuss her out for wasting Red’s perfect fucking mouth.

Elektra rips Red’s head back. He grunts, eyes scrunching up in pain from her grip on the back of his head. And God damn it, that works too, the blood rushing up and out of Frank’s thighs, landing him on the ground while his dick strains. “What was that, Frank?” Elektra asks. She drops Red’s head, and he falls into the ropes, setting off a chain reaction of sensations. He wriggles, jerks, spasms, spinning around in twisted ecstasy while Elektra waits for an answer. Red’s saliva makes the strap-on gleam in the candlelight. Frank can’t stop his tongue from running on the cock gag inside his own mouth, can’t stop himself from staring hungrily at her, at Red, at the two of them.

She catches Red by the hips this time. The view from behind is even better. Shouldn’t be possible, but nothing about Red’s possible. Frank twists in his bonds, trying to look away, trying to bring himself down, trying to stop thinking about Red’s waist, his hip bones jutting through the skin, the ropes at the base of his cock and around his balls. Shouldn’t be anything special about the s-curve of Red’s back, his scars in candlelight, but him. Fucking _him_. Nothing Frank wants to look at besides his muscles flexing under his skin. The nape of his neck and scarlet flecks of his hair. The swoop of his spine leading straight to that pert little ass of his.

Frank steels himself, knowing what’s coming next. Elektra’s all about escalation. She grips Red by the hips. The ropes pull and tighten and pinch, and Frank tries to follow the chain reaction but everything is lost in the arch of Red’s back, the clench of his ass, the curl of his toes. The way his head rocks back on his neck, eyes shut tight, a series of breathless gasps emerging through a mouth he can’t close. He lets out a yell and struggles, trying to undo something that Elektra’s done, but the more he fights, the more he moans, the more Frank shakes in his own bonds, and the more Elektra smiles.

She doesn’t wait for Red to stop. She enters him while he’s moving, just the tip, and holds him there. No pulling away, no pushing closer. She puts a hand in his and he crushes her fingers in his grasp, one very loud _yes_ in a nearly silent room. Red’s suspended on her like he is from the ceiling. His head thrashes about, noises emerging from his throat. Frank’s moving the same way, trying to distract himself. Pissed off that it’s not him up there, pissed off that he’s gonna finish shackled to the floor before he gets a chance at Red.

Frank doesn’t breathe until Elektra finally starts moving again. His exhale comes straight through his nose like a bull about to charge. Red’s body is bending in the most perfect fucking angles. He’s riding out Elektra’s thrusts like he was meant for them, like this is the way he’s supposed to move, this is the way he’s supposed to be. And Frank, too, the way his shoulders strain and his dick throbs and his whole body burns. Elektra put them exactly where they belonged, and Frank hates her for that more than he hates her for getting the best of Red.

The noises start coming out of his own throat: growls and grunts and _get the fuck off him_ and _cut these fucking ropes._ They get Red’s attention, Frank makes damn sure of that. Red might be riding Elektra, but he’s riding Frank too. He lifts his head, flashes one glimpse of his flushed ears and half-lidded eyes and straining mouth before falling back into the grip of the ropes. Never actually asking because he already knows the answer and the answer is Frank.

Again, it’s like she knows, because Elektra responds with one deep thrust, one she doesn’t hold. She withdraws, then thrusts again, then again, then again, finding a momentum and sticking with it even as she goes harder and harder into Red. Frank shouts for him, tries to give him something to focus on, but Red’s shoulders are sagging. He’s crying out through the gag. Elektra goads him on with praise, all but unheard by Frank, who’s ripping at his bonds, scrambling to get his feet under him, trying to get to Red. Remind him who he is, who he belongs to.

Elektra pulls herself away suddenly. Frank’s shout dies in his mouth. Red lets out several moans, each one longer than the last, the sudden absence causing him to struggle anew, searching for her. Elektra turns him around so that his face is in her hands, and she gives him a kiss on the forehead. Then she drops him. Pushes him by the shoulder into a spin that leaves him lost in his own senses. Frustration subsiding for the clamour of his senses gone haywire.

She wipes a hand on her brow, and with a smile on her face, she starts to come over to Frank. Frank barely notices: he can’t take his eyes off Red. Red, who hasn’t finished yet. Red, who’s dangled in front of him, needing an anchor. Needing release. Moaning for it and struggling for it, and Frank’s coming. He’s _coming_. He tries to grunt as much to Red, but then Elektra’s standing in his way. One of her hands goes to the buckle on the back of his neck. The other pinches at either side of Frank’s jaw, holding his mouth in a perfect circle, and in one swift motion, she rips the one cock out of his mouth and replaces it with her own.

The hand on his jaw disappears, and Frank bites down as hard as he can, teeth sinking into the silicone. He rocks his head like a dog trying to snap a throat, but Elektra moans, rocks her hips. “Yes, Frank,” she says, sweeping a hand across the back of her head. The strap-on’s double ended. She’s got the other half inside her. Every rock, every thrust and tug, they go straight into her, and every time she thrusts, the cock rocks through his teeth. 

And it tastes like Red. That’s all Frank tastes is fucking Red. All Frank smells is Red, all Frank feels is _Red_. His jaw loosens at the realization. Elektra shoves his face forward, and Frank doesn’t resist her. He opens his eyes and glares up, letting her know this isn’t about her, and Elektra smiles down at him, thrusting again, letting him know that she knows, that it was her plan all along. To break through his defences, to get inside his mouth, to put herself between Frank and Red and not have them fight back.

Frank shakes her hand off the back of his head at that. He closes his eyes and chases the taste. Red spins around in his head and Frank follows, giving Elektra the fight she deserves on her terms. He gets her moaning, gets her yelling. Gets her saying his name over and over again in what sounds like triumph if only because it puts Frank one step closer to what he wants.

She pulls him off so suddenly. Only the taste of Red in his mouth remains, along with the sting of his cracked lips. Elektra’s hand slides over his scalp in approval, the smile on her face just barely visible in the candlelight. She comes down to his level, one arm over Frank’s shoulder, her face so close to him that he could take a piece out of her if he wanted. But there’s value in showing restraint at this point. Conceding a loss to her gets Frank exactly where he wants to be.

Elektra plays with the ropes on his arms. She grips something, tugs. The tension loosens at his wrists. The metal ring drops to the floor. Frank’s arms are still bound down his back, but he’s free to stand. He finds he doesn’t though, not immediately. Elektra looms in front of his face commanding his attention, demanding some kind of tribute, and Frank doesn’t know what to give her that feels right, feels honest. The taste of Red in his mouth is for him. She doesn’t get any more of Red than what she’s already had.

He tilts his head, gives her his temple, his cheek. Elektra beams and sighs. “Such a romantic, Frank,” she says, nipping at his ear. She swipes him once more on the back of the head, dismissing him from her service, and steps out of his way.

Frank is on his feet in an instant, and he damn near topples over from the head rush. Not enough blood in his body to power his brain, his legs, and his dick, so he’s spinning with every step. Red bobs in his vision, and though the sight does nothing to quell Frank’s dizziness, he can’t pull his eyes away. He’s drawn there, moth to flame, not stopping until Red knocks into his waist, his head rocking over Frank’s skin. The sweat from Red’s hair leaving a cold patch on Frank’s abdominals that make him wish he had the use of his hands. He wants to pull Red’s hair, wants to catch his neck, wants to grip him by the shoulders and twist at the ropes and make him dance on Elektra’s strings.

But Frank’s already dancing. Got his shoulders ready to pop out of his chest, blood bursting at the skin on his fingers and his dick. Fuck, his dick. Red’s face is inches from it, but he hasn’t made a move. He’s playing as many games with Elektra, nuzzling sweetly at Frank. Offering brief flashes of his face, of his games. The way he pretends to not know where to look or that his mouth isn’t pried open into a perfect circle _exactly_ the right size and shape for the taking.

“Needing assistance, Frank?” Elektra offers, reading his thoughts again.

“Fuck you,” Frank says.

“Oh, I’d like that,” she laughs, “Wouldn’t you?”  
  
He doesn’t answer. Might not be able to get himself inside Red without his hands, but there’s plenty he can do without her help. Frank steps around, not allowing himself to drift out of contact with Red. He feels with his abs and hips and thighs and dick all those curves and edges he was admiring before. Red’s spine, Red’s ass, Red’s thighs; Red’s cock and balls: Frank lowers his head, puts his cheek into it, his nose and eyelashes and lips. Red springs to attention, the ropes tightening and pulling so much as that he launches back into another spin.

Frank catches him, using his face some more, this time roving up Red’s chest. He nips and kisses, licks. He bites down on one of the ropes and tugs, and Red arches, groaning, the resulting pull hitting a spot Elektra didn’t or maybe just didn’t hit correctly. Frank tries again with another, and it’s even better, the flush rising into Red’s chest. Listening to him puff against the circle gag, his words garbled into nonsense through his spread lips and teeth. Frank puts himself back in front of Red’s mouth, dangling his dick between them, tempering how bad it is for him by thinking about how worse it is for Red. Watching Red’s lips and teeth work against the gag, watching him struggle to spin back towards the smell of Frank, the taste of Frank. His eyes blinking furiously against sweat, searching through his senses for the way back.

Elektra appears, cupping her hands on the back of Red’s head. She holds him steady, so close that the bulb of Frank’s cock brushes the air around his face. Red’s dick perks up through its bonds. His whole body shakes, and the shaking only grows more violent the softer Elektra becomes, the more confused she behaves. “Oh, Matthew,” she says, “Is this what you want?”

He cries out again, and it’s not fair, not fair the way the target leaps from Red to Frank. Their games are always two against one but the allegiances never stay the same. Frank pushes forward, his dick slipping through the gag, getting a flash of Red’s tongue before Elektra releases him and Red spins away.

Frank gives a low growl in the back of his throat. Elektra beams, gripping Red, her hands scraping through his hair as she holds him again. “Say please,” she says.

Frank will do no such fucking thing.

Red adds a moan, his eyelids fluttering. Eyes rolling back in their sockets as Elektra starts sucking on his earlobe. “Come on, Frank,” she says, “Just one little please.”  
Frank bites down on his lower lip to keep from giving it to her. He can deal, he’s got this, he doesn’t need her. It’s more fun to play with Red on his own terms. But shit, he can’t. He needs it too much, needs Red too much. Needs to get Red back from wherever she’s taken him with her tongue. “Please,” he says.

Elektra kisses at Red’s jaw. “I can’t hear you,” she says. Another moan from Red makes her tug on one of the ropes and get him gasping. “Neither can Matthew.”  
  
“Please,” Frank says.

“Good man,” she says, and cuts off Frank’s comeback by pushing Red straight onto his dick.

There’s a brief moment of clarity where Frank thinks he can say something, but then Red has him, that perfect fucking mouth Frank spent so much time fantasizing about doing all those perfect fucking things. Tongue winding around the shaft, the slick pressure at the tip as Red swallows, the cold rush of air with every one of Red’s breaths. Frank’s eyes roll up in his head. He struggles to keep his legs sturdy under him, especially as Elektra pulls Red back and then pushes him forward.

They’re both moaning now. Red strains to stay close even as the bonds cut into him and Frank’s legs are shaking, his dick throbbing with heat, every pump of Red’s head threatening to send him over the edge. He rocks forward, trying to keep time with Elektra, trying to get deeper and harder, but she doesn’t let him. It’s her way tonight, and she sets the pace, and the frustration makes it worse and makes it better, because it adds another interminable second onto their fucking.

She pushes Red all the way suddenly, sealing Red’s nose into Frank’s groin, cutting off his air supply with a pleasure jerk of his shoulders and waist through the bonds. She pins him there between them, coming up for a kiss to Frank’s mouth, and he doesn’t bother fighting her. He gives her exactly what she wants in exchange for exactly what he wants: the feel of Red on him, around him. Hard to get his tongue working while Red’s is doing double time, but Frank manages, and Elektra holds Frank’s bottom lip between her teeth as she retreats, satisfied.

She’s about to finish him off, Frank can tell. “No,” he says. He steps back from Red’s mouth and knocks his head towards Red’s dick. “He can’t come, right?”  
  
“Not unless I let him,” Elektra says.

“Good.” Frank steps over and gets on his knees. “Don’t touch him.”

He takes Red in his mouth. He doesn’t need Elektra’s help for this. Got all the control in the world over how Red moves, what Red feels, whether Red gets off or doesn’t, and Frank uses all of that. He uses it until he’s geared up and hurting, his skin too tight and muscles too taut and blood too hot. Until he needs to finish.

Red needs to finish too. He’s writhing in the ropes by the time Frank lets him go, and Frank gives him a push, sending him spinning, letting his sensations cloud over till he’s nothing but. He’s staggering away for a second of clarity when Elektra leaps on him, arms around his neck, legs around his waist. Frank nearly falls over, but he won’t let her have that much. She can take what he gives, and he ain’t giving her that.

Her gasps and groans are too fucking much. Frank didn’t think they’d move him the way Red does, but pleasing her, really pleasing her, sending her into a frenzy of her own, _fuck._ He whips her around and kisses her into the wall, and Elektra digs her claws into his face, bucks once with her hips and then they’re turning, and he’s the one against the wall. “Take him,” she says between kisses. “Take him, Frank. Take him. God, you want to. _Just take him_.”

Frank takes one unsteady step forward, then another, then another, Elektra not letting go until they’ve made contact with Red. She slinks off, dips down around Red’s bent leg. She comes up on the other side and twists Red round until Frank’s at his back and she’s at his front. Then she’s watching, eyes bright even in the shadows, her fingers wrapping around Red’s dick, and that’s all the help she’s offering until Frank sees the ropes tighten around Red’s hips. The ropes running through the crack of his ass tighten and spread him open. There’s still lube and spit glistening from when Elektra had him before, and despite the tension running through Red, Frank has no resistance getting into him.

Frank anticipates her working against him, but Elektra doesn’t. She releases Red’s dick and raises her hands above her head, overcome with a whole new kind of ecstasy. Her hips holds Red in place, absorbing every thrust. She laughs as she watches Red take, as she watches Frank give. She kisses Frank on the lips, on his chin, down his neck. Her fingers clawing into the meat of Red’s thigh, her hips pinning Red further onto Frank. She starts taking small steps, allowing Red to spin on the rope, Frank chasing after him the way the moon chases the sun. He’s moaning louder as he spins, incapable of doing anything else. 

So close. Frank’s so close. He nudges the top of Elektra’s head to get her attention from where she’s kissing his collarbones. “Don’t undo him,” Frank says. “He stays right here.”  
  
Elektra comes back to Frank’s mouth. “Of course,” she says. “This is right where I want him. Right where I want you.”

She pulls from Frank. She pushes Red’s leg into Frank’s chest so neither of them can get away from each other, and she comes around behind Frank. Her kisses cross his shoulder blades. Her teeth graze his vertebrae. She slaps his ass as he withdraws, knocking him right back into Red, and she presses her body up against him to lock him in, and everything’s too hot, too fast; the way she bears down on him and Red’s ass clenches around him, it should be enough, it’s more than enough, but Frank doesn’t want to let it. Wants to hold himself there on the edge for as long as possible. 

Elektra has other plans. She thrusts a finger inside him, and that last vestige of control Frank has is obliterated. He comes with a shout that gets lost in Elektra’s laughter, her knuckle spreading him open, Red tight and struggling around his dick.

He goes to stagger back, but there’s nowhere to move. Not without ending up closer to her and further from Red. Swaying there with her is a small price to pay to feel Red straining around him, to feel Red filled up with him, Red gasping and moaning and shivering, trapped on Frank who’s trapped on Elektra. 

She releases him with the same suddenness she’s been doing everything else, and Frank tries to prepare himself for the next attack, but he’s fuzzy and dizzy and cold, rocked by climax. He can’t feel his arms anymore. He pulls at the bonds, needing his hands, wanting to touch. Red’s right there, and he’s searching for that touch, that reassurance, that warmth, and Frank can’t give it to him without pushing him away.

Frank damn near crumples at that. He has to put a leg back to stop from falling, and the sudden break from Red, the chill on his limpening dick, the sight of Red swaying on a rope, it hurts. It fucking hurts. Frank can’t look away, it hurts so good.

Rope squeaks through a pulley. Red rises further from the floor. He circles at Frank’s eye level, head hanging limply, keening weakly but no less desperately as he spins.

Elektra reappears. She takes Frank and pulls him underneath Red, drawing him atop her while she lies on her back, legs bent at the knee. The strap-on is long gone, probably from before he started on Red, and Elektra pushes his head down between her thighs.

“My turn,” she says, as if it hasn’t been her turn this entire time.

Frank is breathless, struggling. His keeps going back to Red, pale and dangling above them, drawing him out of Elektra’s grasp, putting him back on his feet. He searches the floor and spies the cock gag from his mouth, the strap-on from Elektra. “He’s not done yet,” Frank says.

Elektra catches his meaning. She collects the items from the floor and returns to Red’s spinning form. She takes the strap-on to Red’s ass and inserts it, playing with it a little to get him whimpering. Then she takes the cock gag to his mouth and buckles it over the circle gag. She stands on tip toes to kiss the base of the gag. 

Frank waits till she’s out of the way before he knocks his head into Red’s hip and sends him spinning again. “You come when we-“

But Elektra pounces on him, driving him onto the floor. “Ah, ah, ah,” she says, putting him on his knees between her legs, her hand gripping his neck. “My way, Frank.” To both of them: “You come when _I_ let you.”

Red moans above him. Frank opens his mouth to talk back, and Elektra takes advantage, wrapping her legs around his head, dragging him into her, as she lies back on the floor and laughs.

* * *

Happy reading!


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